


simple is sexy, baby (woah!)

by moondances



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Frottage, Joshua Hong Is A Sexy Little Menace, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, artist minghao, by drugs i mean weed, i did not mention all of the seventeens but pretend they're there, minghao is a bit of a panicked gay but please don't worry he gets it together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondances/pseuds/moondances
Summary: Joshua pierces his nipples. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 13
Kudos: 172





	simple is sexy, baby (woah!)

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! wow this fic became a small monster. it was meant to be a simple little pwp and became this... Thing. full of feelings.
> 
> it's totally self indulgent too because now that joshua has shown his nipples (again) and keeps wearing these pretty sheer shirts i cannot stop thinking about him piercing his nipples. as one does.
> 
> i'd like to say a thank you to liz for beta-ing for me and cheering me on as i went and to sabrina for always being my biggest supporter.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!!!

The first thing Joshua notices when he wakes up is the heat and pressure on his chest. It feels like someone is sitting on his chest, but like, with some kind of spiky underwear. Every morning, for the last four days, he's forgotten why they hurt. Today is no different. 

When he looks down to his chest, the morning sunlight filtering in through his window catches on the two bars. _Oh_. He smiles. _Right_. 

Just last Friday, after dinner and a split joint with Jeonghan, the two walked into a local piercing parlor. It was something Joshua had always wanted to do but was never brave enough to commit to. 

A little bit of weed and a little bit of Jeonghan was enough to convince him. The other boy had just gotten his lobes pierced, but Joshua was there for important business. 

He had picked two bars, silver straight through, small enough that he didn't think they would be an in your face kind of piercing, just enough to… Well. Just enough to feel pretty. 

Now, he's no baby when it comes to pain, but the feeling was akin to having his nipples ironed or something, he thinks. Probably. Whatever. When he sits up, after the white spots and snakes slither out of his vision, he looks at his chest in the mirror. His skin is cherry pink all over, his palms are sweaty, but the light in the room catches on the bars, and he smiles.

Jeonghan comes up behind him, resting his chin on top of Joshua's head, and an impressed smile comes to his lips, and he nods at Joshua in the mirror. "Holy shit," he giggles, and Joshua follows suit. "You really did it."

"Yeah," he did. And he thinks they look pretty fucking sick.

"If you weren't you, I'd probably want to kiss you stupid right now," Jeonghan smiles at him in the mirror again, hazy and happy.

"You have kissed me before," he raises an eyebrow, tilting his chin up. He's met with the sight of Jeonghan's chin, and he closes his eyes as the other boy moves off of the top of his head.

"We don't talk about that, Shua, shut up. We're in public," he sighs. But he's still smiling, Joshua knows, and then he's pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. "Happy now?"

"Of course."

And it's not like it's a big deal, really, but Joshua has really _really_ wanted this for a really long time. So, he decides, the fifty-ton truck that's on fire and parked on his nipples is worth it. 

It's worth it until he walks out into the hallway that morning. With his work clothes tucked under his arm, he's still just got his sleep pants on, and Minghao all but runs him over. "Oh!" Joshua squeaks, stepping back and smiling at him. "Good morning."

The other just stares at him for a second, and if Joshua isn't crazy, he thinks he might be… _blushing_? But… but why would he be blushing?

Minghao doesn't reply, instead hangs his head, murmurs an apology, and scampers back to his room.

Later that evening, when he comes home from work, Minghao isn't back from work yet, so Joshua showers, plops down on the couch, leftovers from the night before in his lap. And, like, he's had a shirt on all day, so kill him if he's sitting in the living room with just a pair of pajama pants on. Two and a half episodes into the anime he's been binging, he hears the door open.

He's somewhat decent, so he drapes the blanket nearest him over his shoulders, pulling it around his front, and turning to greet his roommate with a smile. "How was the museum today?"

Minghao shrugs but somewhat smiles back at him. His socked-feet carry him to the couch, and he slumps down next to Joshua. "It wasn't bad. I have a showing I have to get ready for next week, but it shouldn't be too much."

A showing. Joshua has been asking for, like, at least seven months now to go to one of his showings. Ever since they moved in together and Joshua found out he was an artist, he's had an interest. Minghao is modest about his art, bashful about it, but clearly, it's good if his boss keeps letting him participate in the monthly showings. (None of which Joshua has been allowed to come to. He would make a perfect date, mind you.)

 _Can I come_? The syllables burn on the tip of his tongue. Instead –– "She's asked you to do the showing again?" Minghao nods. Joshua smiles, turning his eyes down to his lap. "That's really great. I'm excited for you, dude."

"Thanks, hyung," and that makes Joshua smile. Neither of them are comfortable with the honorifics system, despite Joshua having lived in Korea since he turned eighteen and Minghao having been here since he started his graduate program a year and a half ago. So when Minghao actually calls him his _hyung_ , his insides feel warm, he tucks the feeling away for bad days.

Everything is fine. It's all very Joshua and Minghao, silently passing a bowl of popcorn between each other, their show, and some Christmas lights the only light in the room. But Joshua got up early today, and he's _so tired_. He doesn't want to leave the couch, but he can't stifle his yawns anymore.

He stretches his arms over his head, letting the yawn finally spill from his lips. The blanket falls off of his shoulders, and he stands, hands on his hips.

"I'm going to bed, I'm beat."

From his point on the couch, Minghao just nods, looking at his chest and not his face, and Joshua feels hot under his gaze. The shift in his attitude is quick, and Joshua is nothing if not perceptive. When Minghao finally looks up to meet his eyes, he mumbles a "Goodnight, Shua-hyung," and Joshua takes his cue, walking quickly to his bedroom.

He pouts on his bed for far too long, definitely an embarrassing amount of time until he's too tired to pout any longer.

And when Minghao doesn't look up from his cereal bowl the next morning, Joshua is sure he's done something wrong. He feels like he's losing his mind.

It's little things over the next few days that have Joshua feeling like he's ready to crawl out of his skin.

Whenever he _can_ get Minghao to talk to him, there's no eye contact, and Joshua does most of the conversing. It's starting to make him angry.

Most of the time, Minghao is in his room now. They haven't had dinner together in three days, and yes, Joshua is counting. They had built some sort of schedule, he thought. There were maybe only two days a week when they couldn't eat together, and that was only because Joshua stayed too late at the office and had dinner with Jeonghan, or museum-duty called and Minghao had to stay behind.

They haven't watched their anime in three days either, and he is kind of tempted to watch it on his own, but it feels wrong to watch it without Minghao sitting on the other end of the couch, occasionally tossing a piece of popcorn in his direction.

It's Thursday; therefore, it's their grocery shopping day, and they usually make a list throughout the week of what sounds good. Except for this week, Joshua is shopping list-less, Minghao-less. It kind of fucking sucks. 

Later that night, he's standing in the shower, pondering over what else except for his roommate's newfound distaste for him. He could probably just ask Minghao what's going on, except that suddenly conversation with him seems scary and far away, and no. No, he can't do that. 

For a moment, he lets himself wallow.

He loves it here in Korea, really, but sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he'd just _stayed_ in Los Angeles. Joined some shitty indie band and made movies with his friends at home. He wonders what his mom would do if he called her right now. He wonders if they're just waking up for work. Suddenly, Korea feels so far from home. His chest is tight, and he knows he's being ridiculous, getting so worked up about a stupid argument, but he doesn't have anyone to run to.

Sure, he could call Soonyoung and Jeonghan, but he knows they would tell him to just talk to Minghao, but that's out of the question, no doubt. He just wants to hear his mom's voice –– wants her to tell him he's overreacting, that it's all going to be okay. But it's ten at night here in Korea, the sun is barely kissing the ocean's surface in Los Angeles. He's grown, anyway, can't run to his mom when things get hard.

But, god, he wants to.

It's just like, he's trying really hard to be nice and fix whatever is wrong with Minghao, except he really can't figure it out.

He wants to call it _enough_ , wants to go straight to Minghao's room and tell him that whatever he's upset about, Joshua will fix it.

Except he doesn't get the chance to do any of that.

When he finishes his shower and steps into the bathroom, the mirrors fogged so much he can't see himself in them, he goes under the sink for a towel. It's with a bit of horror that Joshua realizes the worst –– _there are no more towels in his bathroom_.

He has two options here:

  1. Walk out into the hallway, bare ass naked and risk Minghao sitting on the couch, or
  2. Text Minghao and ask him for a towel.



Clearly, neither of those options are the _best_. But he has to do something.

He reaches for his phone on the granite countertop, sighing dramatically and biting his bottom lip into his mouth as he shoots Minghao a text: 

joshy: _please help me i don't have any towels_

hao: _you have to be joking_

joshy: _:(_

joshy: _m not. please hao_

He thinks he hears Minghao groan from his spot on the couch. Joshua smiles. He won that one pretty easy.

hao: _one sec_

It's just a few moments before there's a hesitant knock at the door. Joshua mostly hides behind the walnut wood, hardly modest on the best days, but he respects Minghao and the bad mood he's been in. He peeks out from behind, smiling politely at the Minghao despite the general aura surrounding him.

Minghao holds the towel out, and for the first time all day, he looks _only_ at Joshua's face. It's comforting, makes him feel a little bit better about everything. But when Joshua takes the towel from him, Minghao shuts the door and leaves wordlessly, shuffling back to his room.

That night, Joshua goes to bed as confused as ever.

-

Minghao is acting strange. (Well, he's always strange, Joshua reasons. He loves art and fancy wines and silk pajamas and philosophy and theory and very _cool_ things that Joshua thinks makes him great, but he also has a secret Kuromi plush that he thinks Joshua doesn't know about. He likes to eat apples first thing in the morning, but he peels them like oranges. He watches anime with Joshua after work. His bookshelves are organized by year of release, and despite his fancy clothes, he's carried the same book bag for a year and a half now, and these are all _even cooler_ things that Joshua thinks makes him, like, wonderful.) Joshua knows this. He just doesn't know _why_ he's acting strange.

So, sitting at his desk, he scribbles a list on a piece of scrap paper.

  1. put laundry in the wash this morning??? 
  2. didn't put extra salt on the popcorn when we watched that movie 
  3. told him good job on the showing 
  4. forgot to put the toilet seat down (??? unlikely. I always put the toilet seat down) 
  5. called him "brother" (AS A JOKE!!!!!) in English when I made him play smash 



Soonyoung walks up, unheard by Joshua, and points at the list on his desk. "S'that?"

He runs a hand through his hair, dramatically lays his head on his desk, and pushes the list toward Soonyoung. "My roommate's mad at me."

"Minghao?" Joshua makes a noncommittal sound. "Mm, Jun's friends with him. I can ask him what's up if you want."

"No!" And then what? Have Minghao think he's obsessed? A freak? Totally out of his fucking mind? (Which he is definitely _not._ ) No. He'd rather sulk. "Oh my god, no, I'm sorry. Please don't do that."

Soonyoung just shrugs, eyeing Joshua like he's not listening to a word he's saying. "Whatever." 

"That's hyung to you."

"Right." He grins at Joshua, wide and mischievous, "Whatever, hyung." 

He can only hope and pray to whoever is listening that _Soonyoung_ is listening to him.

The rest of Joshua's day is fairly mundane. It was a quiet day in the office, Soonyoung typing away at his computer in the cubicle next to him. He couldn't stop thinking about Soonyoung suggesting he talk to Junhui about the Situation. Joshua wonders if it would help, if it would make him look that crazy. (Yes, he tells himself, it would.) 

All Joshua had to do before he could leave for the weekend was finish this report and turn it in to Yoongi and then he was free.

He had a quick lunch with Mingyu where they discussed the upcoming office Halloween party details. (Joshua was bringing chicken. From his favorite restaurant just down the street from his and Minghao's apartment. No way was he going to cook for over twenty coworkers. He was ambitious, but not so.)

For a day of doing a whole lot of nothing, he was fucking exhausted.

He's still running through the day in his head when he walks through the door, trying to figure out why Minghao had avoided looking him in the eyes this morning. He finds the man of the hour on the couch, the anime he started yesterday on the television.

"Hey," Joshua offers, toeing his shoes off at the door and setting his bag down at the dinner table on his way to the couch where Minghao lays.

"Hi," he's shorter than usual, his tone flat, and Joshua's a bit put off by it, but knows the other boy might have had a hard day at the museum. Still, he figures he's not welcome on the couch, so he moves to stand up.

A hand comes to his leg when he moves, though, fingers pressing into the denim covering his thighs. When Joshua turns, to look at Minghao, bewildered, the other boy is already staring at him.

"Don't go," his voice is convincing, and Joshua is so tired, he can't _genuinely_ argue, but he kind of wants to. 

"Are you going to talk to me?"

Minghao's eyebrows crease, and Joshua can see at least fifteen different emotions flicker across his face while he decides carefully how to reply. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before Joshua just gives up.

Pushing Minghao's hand off of his thigh, he stands. "Right. I'm going to my room then if you––"

"Did you pierce your nipples?"

"What?" The fuck?

There's an exasperated sigh from behind him. "Did you pierce your nipples?" He speaks slower this time, and Joshua's so fucking confused.

"Yeah, dude, I thought I told you." When he shifts his weight to his other foot and turns his head, Minghao is gawking at him. "Literally last Friday night. Jeonghan and I both went. I definitely told you, Hao, there's no way I didn––"

"No," the response is curt, and Joshua purses his lips together. What the hell is his problem? "You didn't tell me. I- I would remember that."

"Well, clearly you fucking don't?" He scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest, affronted and a bit offended now, honestly. He can't figure out why Minghao is so concerned with his nipples. They're his, after all. "What's your issue anyway, Minghao? Do you want to see them or something?"

It's brief, he would have missed it if he had just blinked. But he didn't, and Minghao's eyes widened for a flicker of a second, and Joshua recognized a flash of consideration in his eyes. But ultimately, he shakes his head. "No, I don't want to see it, _Josh_." He winces at the nickname, at the absence of syllables, the ones Minghao has chosen sounding wrong coming from his mouth. I don't know. I just––" He deflates then, flushed red from his ears down past the collar of his crewneck. "Maybe I would have gone with you, or something. Whatever. I don't know."

"You're… Are you jealous? That I pierced my nipples without you there?" He knows he sounds accusatory, but he's puzzled, cannot figure out for the life of him why Minghao would be jealous of this.

So when Minghao rolls his eyes and turns on his heels, it's Joshua's turn to gawk, his jaw surely dragging on the rug. "I'm not fucking jealous. I don't know. I'm sure they look cool. I'm going to bed now." And then he's gone.

-

It's a Saturday, he has plans with Jeonghan tonight, and his morning is filled with chores. He doesn't mind doing them, though. He kind of likes to clean. Especially in the early fall. He opens the windows in the apartment, lights candles, throws some clothes in the washing machine, and he's happy. The candles he light smell like home, and outside the sixth story apartment window, he can see that the sky is overcast.

He loves October.

He and Minghao have made a bit of a home out of their little Seoul apartment. The living room is small, but string lights outline the ceilings, making it feel bigger, taller. Their walls are white, but much of it is covered in art. Some of the art is stuff that Joshua sees and points out, that Minghao brings home later. (He doesn't know if that's a coincidence, or if Minghao just really pays attention to him, quietly.) Of course, there are pieces of art that Minghao has done (and he's usually too bashful to hang it himself, but Joshua insists and he knows that Minghao likes it). There are photos they have both taken, of themselves, each other, their friends, their family. There are photos of _home_ home, of China and America, of Liaoning and Los Angeles. There is a wooden crate full of vintage vinyl records they pick up at the record store sometimes, a baby pink record player sitting on top of it. There is the couch that Joshua's mom bought for him when he moved across the ocean, and there is a basket of blankets next to the couch. (Neither of them likes to feel cold.)

Minghao is meant to be away most of the day today, but a few hours into his morning clean, the door opens, and Minghao walks in, shoulders slumped and head down. Joshua frowns, ready for another day of uncomfortable glances. He expects him to tell him he's going to his room, to disappear for hours.

"Today sucked," is what Minghao says instead and slumps down on the couch. 

Joshua surveys the room and tries to figure out if he is welcome on the couch. He's not sure if Minghao even knows he's in the room with him. Maybe he thought he was talking to himself. Maybe he thought Jeonghan was already here. Fuck, is it already five? Minghao shouldn't be home yet, surely. No, he assures after checking his phone, it's only one thirty. 

"I can hear you thinking from here, Shua." _Shit_. "Would you either sit down or stop burning a hole in the back of my head with your eyes?"

 _Shit_ again, except louder this time.

Sit down. Okay. Sit down, Joshua knows how to do that.

Minghao almost smiles, the corners of his lips lifting, the kind of smile that's not supposed to happen, that's maybe a little inappropriate. Joshua catches it, and he's never felt better about seeing a smile in his life. When he sits next to Minghao, he leaves considerable space, still not knowing his place here.

It's a bit weird. Things between the two of them have always been quieter –– gentle, warm like the kiss of the sun on freshly fallen snow, quiet like wind blowing flakes around, sticking to eyelashes –– but never uncomfortable.

It's not that he even _kind of_ hates it. He really hates it. He can tell Minghao isn't going to start talking without some prompting, so Joshua, pulling both of his legs criss-cross on the couch, turns his body to face his friend. He looks at him, then, smiles a secret smile to himself. Minghao's got on a sweater Joshua brought home for him once, after a particularly long week of work that had him beaten down and missing home, craving comfort. It's a baby blue, lightweight cotton sweater; the sleeves are long and stretch just past Minghao's fingers. It's not something he would normally wear, and Joshua knows this when he buys it. He just hopes it's something that will make Minghao feel cozy and warm, fuzzy on the insides. It's not something he would normally wear, so seeing it paired with a pair of black baggy pants, makes Joshua feel warm and fuzzy inside –– like cinnamon pancakes and Sunday mornings. It's just tucked at the front, his long delicate fingers decorated with gold jewelry, a pretty golden chain around his neck.

"So," Joshua starts, and Minghao visibly tenses. That makes Joshua wince; he's never good at confrontation or uncomfortable things. This is a bit of both. "You don't have to talk," he directs his attention to the rips in his jeans, pulls at the denim, breathes in deep to steady himself. It's just Minghao, he reminds himself. No one to be afraid of. 

"You don't have to talk," Joshua repeats, braver this time, "But I'm here to listen."

When he peeks up from his lap, he sees the beginning of a smile on Minghao's lips. He shrugs then, laughs a bit petulantly, his bottom lip jutting out in the babiest of pouts. "Shua-hyung," he sighs, lolls his head back, his lips still turned up at the corners, closes his eyes, and Joshua just watches and waits.

Minghao's neck is _long_ , Joshua takes note of this in the silence. The pretty gold chain rests pretty on his skin, two small circles interlaced sit delicately between his pretty collarbones. _Minghao_ is pretty. Joshua knows this, objectively speaking. Aesthetically speaking. This is not something that comes to him now. What is new is the way his eyes follow Minghao's Adam's apple when he swallows, when the muscles in his neck flex when he takes a particularly deep breath and starts talking. 

"Shua, it is so stupid," he laughs in earnest then, and brings his head forward, resting his chin in his hand.

 _Be fucking normal_ , Joshua swears inside his head, his ears burning red hot as he can only hope Minghao hadn't felt him boring into his soul (read: staring right at the skin above his sweater, wondering if the gold metal would feel cool against his lips against Minghao's usually warm skin—)

"It's just that the showcase is next weekend, and I'm going alone _again_." 

Joshua relaxes then. No broken bones, or hearts, he still has a job, no one died. He can deal with this. He just needs to tell Minghao that it's okay to go alone. What he does not need to do is offer to go again so that he can get rejected for, like, the fourth time. Maybe he can offer Jeonghan as a date, though Seungcheol and Mingyu probably wouldn't like that so much, ––

"Let me come," is what he says instead.

 _Fuck_. Oh, hell. 

He's beyond embarrassed when Minghao stays silent, tries to figure out how he can avoid him forever. Maybe he should just pack his bags and show himself out now.

"Okay."

He blinks once, twice, three times. Turning his head comically slow, he is shocked and a little bit elated when he finds Minghao smiling at him. He thinks surely he heard Minghao wrong. He's asked to go to the showcase _three times_ before (at least, he's trying to give himself the benefit of the doubt––) "Huh?" 

"Okay, Shua," And it's Joshua that smiles when Minghao meets his eyes. Things feel more normal then, something sliding back into place. "Come to the showcase with me."

The rest of the afternoon goes by in lazy golden hues. Joshua, of course, (and maybe to his demise), agreed to go to Minghao's showcase. The problem isn't that he doesn't want to go. No, the problem is that he wants to go _so fucking bad_ , and he has for, well, since Minghao got this job eight months ago. The problem is, he's going to show up dressed up next to Minghao who will be dressed up, showing his art off to all of his coworkers and art connoisseurs and people of the sorts. 

Oh, well. It's days until the showcase, Joshua shouldn't worry about it now.

Except he does worry about it. He worries about it up until Jeonghan shows up to the apartment.

Joshua's bedroom has a little bay window that the two of them have made a small space out of. The window is opened, their takeout food spread around the window pane, drinks on a small table next to them. 

He's just high enough to feel hazy around the edges, sated from weed and sweet and sour pork and the gentle reminder that Jeonghan is here, their knees knocking. This also means his inhibitions are low enough to have finished telling Jeonghan all about the week he and Minghao have had –– from Minghao being weird and not speaking to asking him to go to the showcase.

On a slow exhale, Jeonghan hands Joshua the messily wrapped joint, and stares at him, bewildered. "Dude," he gapes at him, and Joshua is confused.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me Minghao likes you back?"

Joshua gapes at Jeonghan this time, his eyes surely bugging right out of his head. "Like me _back_?"

"Um. Yes? Clearly." 

That can't be right. "No, dude, no way. I mean, I don't even like Minghao," Jeonghan scoffs a laugh under his breath, Joshua hears it, but ignores him and keeps tripping over his words. "It's just, like, for him to like me back insinuates that I would have to like him first. Which I don't." Jeonghan hums, unconvinced. "And besides, even if I _did_ like him, there's no way he would like me. He is infinitely cooler than I am."

Jeonghan shrugs, but rests his hand assuringly on Joshua's knee, his tone teetering on teasing, " _Right_ , well, I won't argue with you there. Minghao is very cool, but it sounds to me like he _at least_ likes your piercings."

"My piercings… Like, my ear piercings?"

The look on Jeonghan's face would scare Joshua, probably, if he didn't know that he was mostly harmless. 

"Are you that dense? Shua, you said he started this as soon as he _saw your nipples_. I'm no scientist, but that seems like it's pretty straightforward to me."

There is no way that Joshua could have missed that many clues, he's not (by any stretch of the means) inexperienced, and likes to consider himself very aware of what is going on around him. Except what if he was just totally blind to it? What if Minghao _did_ like his nipple piercings?

With a sigh, Jeonghan sits up straight and slaps both of his hands next to him on the wooden window seat. He looks straight at Joshua, plucks the joint from his fingers, inhales the smoke slow and deep, and lets it out as he starts back up.

"Alright, first of all, it's clear to me that you've wanted Minghao to dick you down––"

"Please relax."

Jeonghan squints his eyes. "It's clear to me that you have wanted Minghao to make sweet sweet love to you for at least a year and a half now." Has he? "If Minghao has opened his eyes, now is your time to slide in."

"Bad pun."

"Not a pun." Joshua deadpans at him. Jeonghan grins, wicked, "I'm sorry, did you think you'd be topping?"

Joshua throws a piece of rice right at Jeonghan's forehead. It misses.

"Second, I have two boyfriends. You can't pretend like I don't know what it looks like when two people like each other. Or at least when they want to f––"

"Shut up," another piece of rice at his forehead, this one sticking in his dark brown, freshly permed fringe. "You've said enough."

Shaking his head, Jeonghan smiles, one of his evil, special for Joshua smiles. The smile that says, _I am about to say something and you are going to hate it but you won't be able to tell me no because I have a stupid sweet face_. Being Jeonghan's best friend is not consequence-less. And he really can't tell him no.

"Maybe you're right. I don't think you're brave enough to get Minghao to have sex with you, anyway, even if he does want to."

The hint of provocation in his voice sends Joshua reeling. Jeonghan knows Joshua can't turn down a challenge, definitely can't accept defeat when something is dangling in front of him like this. He clenches his teeth, sighs, and shrugs.

"If you think this is all because I pierced my nipples, I don't think I have much work to do."

The rest of the night plays out uneventfully, Jeonghan and Joshua tucked away in their corner, Minghao tucked away quietly in his bedroom. They share their leftovers with him, but he quickly returns to his room, and Jeonghan wiggles his eyebrows at Joshua when he walks away, catches Joshua's gaze following Minghao all the way out the door.

Joshua huffs, resting his head on the window pane, soft rain falling in Seoul, and thinks to himself _I can be sexy_.

Things the next day are calm when Jeonghan leaves. (He has to go home and have Sunday brunch with his boyfriends, plural, he reminds Joshua before he leaves. It's imperative he remembers Jeonghan has two because Seungcheol had finally realized he could date both of them at once.)

He almost forgets that Minghao is maybe attracted to him.

Almost.

It's normal when they sit at the table in silence, Minghao scrolling through his phone on Instagram, Joshua looking at work emails even though it's his day off. The silence is comfortable, finally, and Joshua is basking in it, glad that he doesn't feel stifled in his own home anymore.

Except he feels a bit gross, in need of a shower. He and Jeonghan had spent nearly the entire night perched on his window seat, the humid air of Seoul sticky on their skin. Of course, both boys had waited until they were too tired to shower and fell in a pile of pretzeled limbs onto Joshua's bed, sweaty and sticky skin pressed together.

"I'm going to shower," he announces, to which Minghao nods, lifts two fingers up in a peace sign, and takes a drink of his coffee.

After Joshua has showered, washed his face, and moisturized, he slips on a thin white t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. It's nothing that he's not worn in front of Minghao before, so it delights him to see the brief look of shock on Minghao's face when he walks back into the room.

He knows the t-shirt clings to his chest, still a little damp. The metal bars on either of his nipples press against the material, leaving an outline that even _Joshua_ thinks is pretty. The look on Minghao's face subsides quickly, but the flush on his cheeks does not.

Minghao is flustered, and Joshua is giddy because of it.

He rides the high of Minghao's pretty pink cheeks all afternoon, only ever changing to put on a pair of sweatpants and only because the October breeze in their apartment gets a little too much when Minghao opens the windows.

The rest of the work week goes pretty smoothly, mostly without incident, but Joshua takes note of every time Minghao's eyes drag down, the way his skin heats up to his ears when he realizes Joshua has caught him.

Later that night, after he's showered (yes, again, he's got freshly washed sheets and he's not an animal. Plus, something is comforting about crawling into his fresh sheets freshly showered.) when he knows Minghao will be home soon, he has a plan.

He's been standing against the counter for at least eight minutes when he hears the door click shut and then footsteps. Finally, he sighs, a bit petulant, maybe whiny. Oh well. He's cold, he'd like to put his fucking sweater on now. 

There's a bowl of berries next to him, and his lips are stained a berry pink, fingers sticky and hair damp still from his shower. When Minghao gets nearer to him, he pops a berry into his mouth, his fingers lingering near his lips.

Minghao all but falls into the kitchen and Joshua sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking the strawberry juice off of them, making a show of hollowing his cheeks, never once breaking eye contact. Fuck. Jeonghan would be so proud. He'd probably never believe him. When did he get so shameless?

"Forgot a shirt after my shower," he shrugs, when he sees Minghao staring right at his chest. Right at the two little bars decorating his nipples, still plump and a little bit red a week later. 

Hook, line, and sinker.

"This is––" his voice breaks around the words, flushed pink up to his ears. "This is the kitchen."

Joshua hums then, looking around as if he's just realized. He pushes himself off of the counter, grabs one more strawberry, and pops it into his mouth. "Guess you're right," he speaks around the berry, sauntering away to his room, his sweats snug around his waist.

Briefly, he wonders if he's read the situation wrong. If Hoshi and Jeonghan got the whole thing wrong.

The pink heat on Minghao's cheeks is at the forefront of his mind, though. And no, no, he doesn't think he had. Minghao is exactly where he wants him.

If he's intentionally worn his best-fitted shirts for the last four days, that's his business. 

His favorite moments are the early mornings before both of them head off to work, when Joshua strides past him, out of the bathroom, skin wet from his shower, his skin flushed pink. He feels Minghao burning holes into his back as he walks down the hallway to his room, a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face.

It's Thursday night now, and Joshua, Jeonghan, and Soonyoung are going drinking. Their office is closed tomorrow for some routine maintenance, and Saturday is the showing at the museum with Minghao.

Joshua figures there's no problem in going out with his friends. He also figures there's no problem with what he does next ––

"Minghao!" He peeks his head out of his bedroom door, waits for Minghao's head to pop out. He can see him sitting on the couch from here, but he's only a person from the chin up. He hums in response to Joshua, so he nods his head in the general direction of the back. "Come help me."

Minghao sighs, but he stands up, and Joshua doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's too late.

He's standing in his room, only lit by his Christmas lights, dressed only in a pair of ripped black skinny jeans. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, what little light there is in his room catching on his piercings and glittering silver. His eyes widen, and he thinks briefly about putting on a t-shirt, but then Minghao is standing at his door, and he's stuck in place.

He feels more exposed now than he has before, for some reason the low light, skin-tight jeans, and the joint he'd hit before his shower doing a number on him.

 _Be brave_ , he thinks, _you've been doing this for days_.

So, he tries. He does his best to take advantage of the situation he's gotten himself into.

He feels bashful and a little shy until he gathers the courage to look at Minghao, who must think Joshua isn't looking at him, because both of his eyes are stuck on Joshua's chest, staring right at his piercings. They're not pink anymore, but they're still quite a bit swollen and tender. He wonders what it would feel like for Minghao to get his lips on him and––

Minghao coughs, meets Joshua's eyes, and Joshua swallows thick when he finds Minghao's pupils blown and his gaze heady.

"What did you want help with?" Joshua can tell Minghao is doing his best to sound composed, and Joshua does his best to sound oblivious, to _look_ oblivious, but he can't miss the way Minghao's eyes have darkened.

"I just––" He straightens his back, traces his bottom lip with his tongue, thinking. _You can seduce Minghao. You are cool enough to do that_. "I just don't know what shirt looks the best with my jeans, and you've got the best taste, so," He bats his eyelashes, smiles across the way, and relishes in the way Minghao's jaw goes slack, if only slightly.

A thousand questions flash across his face, and Joshua has to mentally remind himself to not laugh, to maybe be a little bit more subtle in his delivery. It looks painful, the way that Minghao's eyebrows are furrowed together, and Joshua wants to know what he's thinking. 

He finally responds, murmurs out an agreement, takes a seat on the edge of Joshua's bed, and waits, patient and so pretty. Joshua wants to admire him, to map out all of his reactions, put them in a dictionary and keep them safe, but he has a task at hand, so he turns towards his closet and pulls out three options.

The first shirt he holds up to Minghao is a button-up black t-shirt, a sweet little collar, and rolled sleeves. It looks nice on, and he thinks to himself that he would leave two or three buttons undone. 

Minghao looks over the shirt carefully like he's thinking about if it would look good, then says, "Try it on."

"What?"

"Put it on, Shua." Joshua nods at that, slipping an arm through the unbuttoned shirt, pulling it around his back, and putting his arm through the other sleeve. He walks closer to Minghao out of reflex, buttoning from the bottom.

But then Minghao is standing very close to him, and he wordlessly brings his hands to Joshua's shirt, his knuckles brushing the skin of his belly when he works his buttons up. Joshua's mouth goes dry and he swallows his words down, tongue thick in his mouth.

Minghao is suddenly much closer than Joshua thinks is safe for his heart. It's beating far too hard, he's sure Minghao will feel it as he buttons the higher buttons. 

If he does feel it, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he drops his hands to his side, makes a quiet noise of approval, but not without speaking softly, "Turn around."

Joshua's eyes widen and he hopes it isn't too noticeable. He's warm all over and. Well, and an order is an order. He nods, turning slowly around, aware of the hug of his jeans as he does so. 

Minghao hums, comes forward to touch Joshua's arm to turn him towards him again, and Joshua can't speak, can't even breathe when Minghao says, "Let's see the next one, then."

He unbuttons the shirt in record time, sliding it off and letting it hit the floor. Normally, he would hang it up or at least fold it, but he's a bit distracted and he's feeling heady and floaty and definitely too sober.

The second shirt he has picked out is a long sleeve black turtleneck. Realistically, he knows this will be too hot to go out in, but he likes the way it fits and hugs him in the right places. Besides, now his nipples press against the material, and they're a little sore, but he kind of likes the pressure, the reminder that they're there.

When he gets the shirt pulled on over his head, he's careful to not catch the jewelry on the fabric, and pulls the turtleneck down past his eyes, and is met with Minghao looking at him with purpose.

Joshua's not stupid.

What is stupid maybe is the fact that Joshua is half hard in his jeans and absolutely nothing has happened. He wills himself to breathe, counts to four, five, six in his head before releasing the air through his nose. He doesn't dare to look past Minghao's eyes, but he doesn't have to to know that he's not faring much better than himself.

He thinks it can't get any worse, but then Minghao's hands are at his throat, folding the turtleneck down, making neat lines. He slips his thumb just under the material, creasing it between his fingers, his knuckles grazing just over Joshua's Adam's apple.

He swallows. Hard.

Minghao feels it, and he looks up from where his eyes have been previously looking at his shirt collar. Joshua feels his ears heat up from the eye contact, and he squirms in place, Minghao brushing the pad of his thumb intentionally across his throat then.

Joshua can't break the gaze, can't possibly look away, or do much of anything except take whatever it is that Minghao is giving him. What Minghao is giving him in that moment is the gentle, persistent press of his thumb against the side of his neck just under the material of his shirt.

He's so confused how they got here –– Joshua _knows_ he has had the upper hand for the better part of two weeks, and now he's melted fucking butter under Minghao's touch.

And that just won't do.

He gives himself six seconds exactly to revel in how close Minghao is to him –– He feels every breath that the slightly taller boy releases, if he would lift his eyes, he'd see that his pupils are blown wide. He feels his heartbeat hitting Minghao's thumb, and he almost lets out a sigh.

But he doesn't do any of that.

Rather, he takes a step back, two, three, until Minghao's hand has to leave his neck. If he had any less control over himself, he would whine at the loss of contact, however small.

Clasping his hands together behind his back and finally flicking his gaze up from the ground, he meets Minghao's eyes and is stunned. His cheeks are painted the sweetest shade of pink Joshua has ever seen, his eyes hazy and darkened. 

Unconsciously, he licks his lips, traces Minghao's eyes as they drop to follow the action. Experimentally, he tugs at the corner of his lips, then drags his tongue across the expanse of his bottom lip.

Amazingly, Minghao tracks every movement.

Joshua breathes a sigh of relief. He had almost lost all of his composure, but he's much cooler than he thought.

"One more," his throat is so dry when he speaks that it almost hurts, and Minghao nods in his general direction. He looks kind of like he wants to flee, and, defensively, Joshua wants to tell him that he can, if he doesn't want to be here, he can go.

But Minghao doesn't go. In fact, he looks conflicted. Stuck, maybe. 

When he lifts his hands above his head, exposing his nipples now hard and red from the fabric rubbing against them, Minghao gasps. Joshua smiles to himself, hidden by way of the shirt not totally off. He thinks it's safe, so he takes a quick peek past Minghao's chest, the waistband of his jeans, and almost whines when he sees that he's half hard, too.

That's enough to get Joshua back in motion.

One more shirt.

This one is a shirt he's had tucked away for a while now. It's black (like most of his going out clothes are), long-sleeved, and sheer. Like, it's very sheer.

He turns away from Minghao to slip it on because he honestly doesn't think he can look at him for a second longer without doing something dumb. He doesn't touch the buttons and steadies himself with another deep breath.

It's just Minghao, he reminds himself. There's no reason to be nervous.

So, he turns on his heels, and Minghao sighs, a soft thing that barely blows past his lips, but Joshua doesn't miss it.

Once again, he's struck with the realization that Minghao is pretty. Everything about him. His hair is long now, a dark sandy blond color. Today, he's dressed fairly down, but he never looks lazy. Even in his black jeans and t-shirt, Joshua thinks he looks more put together than he could. The jewelry he's wearing is minimal today, a small pair of gold hoops, a thin necklace, just three rings on his fingers. He's flush in the low light of Joshua's room, his lips pulled between his teeth. Standing there, half hard and rosy across his complexion, he looks otherworldly to Joshua.

Everything about him is long and perfect, and Joshua really can't believe it took him this long to realize it.

After he's had enough staring, and Minghao has had enough looking, Joshua moves to button the shirt, figuring he'll wear this one out since it was his favorite to begin with anyway.

But Minghao swats his hand away, both of his own hands gripping at the hem of the sheer fabric, knocking his knuckles against his skin with purpose this time.

Joshua drops his head, his eyes fluttering shut at the touch.

Minghao has always been tactile. It took only two days of knowing each other for Minghao to snuggle up next to him in the library on a particularly cold December day. It took one week for the two to fall asleep in the same bed, Minghao's hands resting on Joshua's stomach. Being touched by Minghao is not new. He's always been touchy, but the intentions now are different. There's an undertone of something headier, something warmer, something bigger. He feels a bit like he's floating, high off of Minghao's touch, gentle, barely there.

"Shua-hyung," he takes a step closer, using the leverage on the hem of Joshua's shirt to pull him close, and a gasp falls from Joshua's lips at the shift. "Look at me."

It takes all of his willpower, but he does –– he opens his eyes, slowly looking up from where their chests are nearly touching, and he finds Minghao's eyes in the dim light. Like tunnel vision, he can't see anything else. So close like this, he can't feel anything except for Minghao.

"I'm going to kiss you now," He speaks soft, barely over a whisper, and Joshua's gone pliant in his hold. "If that's okay."

"Yeah," he breathes, a silent plea tucked far away. _Please_.

It doesn't happen quickly like Joshua thinks it might.

Minghao takes his time, rests his forehead on top of Joshua's, lets their noses brush for just a moment, studies his face, and Joshua feels special under his gaze. One of Joshua's hands comes to the front of Minghao's shirt, balling into a fist, holding the material tight; his other hand drops to Minghao's waist, pulls him closer, hips flush together. He feels like he might melt.

And melt he does when Minghao finally, and agonizingly slowly presses his lips to Joshua's, sweet and chaste at first. Like it means something.

But Joshua needs, has needed for a while now, and he parts his lips for Minghao, tightening his grip on his hip, and to the best of his ability takes control. 

It's desperate and eager when Minghao's tongue slips past Joshua's lips, maps out the expanse of his mouth. With the tug of Joshua's teeth on Minghao's lip, the other boy groans and tugs him back towards the bed.

Minghao pulls Joshua down with him, and Joshua feels like he's going to burst into flames at any moment. He knows he and Minghao are about the same size, but Minghao pushing and pulling him around makes a familiar heat crawl up his stomach.

He can't get enough of his hands on Minghao, using his shoulders for leverage as he guides him down. A leg on either side of Minghao's hips, he shifts down onto his elbows, weaving his fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. 

It's not often he gets to see Minghao dressed down like this. It's not often he's not done up for work, but Joshua thinks he looks the prettiest like this. A plain black t-shirt, air-dried hair, no makeup, and flush in the face.

And then he smiles up at Joshua, all teasing and teeth, a smile just for him, one that reaches his eyes. It makes Joshua's heart somersault, drum beat heart rattling his ribcage.

There's something much softer on the tip of his tongue, so he swallows the words down, leans down until he's close enough that his lips brush Minghao's when he speaks –– "Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to kiss me?"

They keep their eyes on each other, and it's Joshua's turn to smile when he watches Minghao's pupils dilate, watches him fight with himself before kissing Joshua again, a mess of teeth and tongue and spit leaving Joshua desperate and wanting when he pulls away too quickly.

Joshua's shirt, never buttoned, leaves him exposed on top of Minghao, and he's getting a bit impatient, so he rocks his hips back. Minghao presses against his thigh, fully hard, and Joshua can't stop himself from whining, Minghao's hands gripping at his waist, digging his fingers into the skin.

The other boy murmurs a curse word in Mandarin, then uses his grip on Joshua to flip them over, his hands spreading the material of his shirt around him on the bed.

If Joshua felt exposed before, he feels totally naked now, bare in front of Minghao, even with his jeans on.

Minghao's hand comes to his chest, and he spreads his fingers across the plane of Joshua's skin, never taking his eyes off of him. His fingers dance around, dragging down, down, down to his belly button, pulling a soft sound out of Joshua. He drags them back up, tracing the tip of his finger just around the swollen part of his nipple, careful enough not to touch the piercing itself. 

Joshua squirms beneath him, unable to keep his eyes open, feeling thread-bare under his stare.

Minghao's hand stops, his thumb pressing into the skin just below his nipple. He can't help but lean up into the touch, and he swears Minghao lets out a hum of amusement, but then he's dragging the press of his thumb across to the other side of his chest, tracing around the other nipple.

He feels like he's floating, really and truly, he feels like his soul has left his body and flown to fucking Mars because all of the sudden, Minghao is kissing at his jaw, sucking little purple bruises into his skin, down his neck, collarbones, and he stops just next to his nipple. He rests his forehead on Joshua's chest, shakes his head, panting.

"Do you even know," he grinds his hips down, his cock pressing against Joshua firm and insistent, "What you've been doing to me for the last two weeks?"

And, well. Yeah, he does know. He's known for about half a week now, but he's not going to tell Minghao that. Maybe another time he'll bite back, kiss snarky words behind his ear, but tonight he just shakes his head, playing an innocent smile in Minghao's direction.

Minghao rolls his eyes, so Joshua figures he sees right through his act, and Joshua, for a moment, forgets what they're doing. For a moment. they're just Joshua and Minghao, and it comes easy when he giggles, reaches down, and tugs at Minghao's hair.

Minghao moans, so Joshua pulls on his hair again, and there are lips on his in a heartbeat, Minghao pressing hard against his belly a good reminder to tuck the hair thing away for later. 

He is loving all of the attention Minghao is giving his mouth right now, really, but his cock is so hard in his jeans he feels like he might cry, and this has been going on for so long now, he's going to die, probably.

"Hao," he breaks away from the kiss, wrapping a leg around Minghao's waist, pulling him down closer, rubbing against Minghao's equally too-clothed thigh. "Can you––" His hand tugs at Minghao's shirt, pushing it up to his armpits, the other quickly shucking it to the floor, pulling Joshua up long enough to slip his shirt off of his arms.

Joshua's hands immediately find Minghao's back, and he flips him over, pushes him onto his back again.

He kisses him, quick and sweet, square on his lips and trails down his jaw, sucks a mark just under his ear, and leaves open-mouthed kisses down his chest, nipping at the skin by his belly button with his teeth. 

When he gets to Minghao's jeans, he pulls at the material with his teeth for a moment, then presses his mouth against him over the denim, looks up to find Minghao's eyes from under his lashes, and runs his tongue across the fabric, spit leaving a wet spot in his wake.

"Can I suck you off now?" He's a bit eager to get Minghao in his mouth, but waits for his nod and quickly gets his jeans down past his knees, dipping his fingers below the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down as well.

He watches in amazement as Minghao springs free, the tip of his cock pink and leaking. 

And of course, just like everything else about Minghao, his cock is pretty, and Joshua whines, quiet and low in his throat, and carefully takes Minghao in his mouth, experimentally sliding down.

He's not inexperienced, but it has been a while. He knows it will take him a minute before he can get up to his own standards, but he's nothing if not dedicated when he starts bobbing his head. 

Before long, he feels Minghao's fingers thread through his hair, and he tries his best to nod, to encourage him to pull, to push.

He tongues at the underneath of his cock, and Minghao jerks above him, his nails scratching dully against Joshua's scalp, enough encouragement for him to take him down further, wrapping his hand around his base and twisting.

He works at Minghao for a moment, pulling off to let spit drop from his tongue, and he uses his hand to spread it around, spit and pre-cum mixing together on Joshua's palm, sloppy. He takes Minghao back into his mouth, almost immediately hollowing his cheeks. A particularly rough tug of his hair sends a shiver down his spine, and he hums around Minghao.

Underneath him, Minghao shakes, quiet moans and curses in both Korean and Mandarin, but Joshua only understands parts of it, he kind of can't believe this is happening. He's about two seconds from giving Minghao the go to fuck his mouth when his phone rings.

He sees the screen lit with Jeonghan's face, and he suddenly remembers he had been getting ready to go out. Minghao doesn't seem to panic like Joshua is right now, and he picks up his phone, his hand pushing Joshua's head down and holding it there. 

Joshua thinks maybe he'll pull him off long enough to answer, will have him finish him off quickly, and then he'll go out, but then Minghao does none of those things.

He answers the phone.

"Hello?" His voice is a wreck. He sounds fucked out and he speaks so low that Joshua moans around him, nose almost pressed to his belly. He watches Minghao as he talks, breathing through his nostrils to not choke.

"Sorry, no, he won't be coming out tonight." He raises his eyebrows at that, considering he thought Minghao would surely tell him to go –– have fun. "He's alright, yes. Don't worry. Yeah, I'll have him call you later. Be safe. Thanks, Jeonghan."

He hangs the phone up, pulls Joshua up and off his cock, and grins, sinful. "He's good at playing stupid."

Joshua sputters, spit dribbling down his chin. He coughs, and Minghao just smiles down at him, pulls him up to kiss him again, spit slick and sticky. Humming when he pulls away, Minghao rubs his knuckles against Joshua's scalp, forehead to forehead. "You good?"

He nods, kissing Minghao again, hoping to assure him, hoping his message is clear in his desperation. 

"The best," he figures it's safer to assure him verbally.

Minghao sits up, pulling Joshua's bare chest to his own, kissing his neck, tongue tracing bruises he'd left earlier, and Joshua's cock twitches in his jeans.

Minghao must feel it and remember that Joshua is still halfway clothed, so he works his pants off, and groans when he finds Joshua's bare under his jeans already.

He had honestly forgotten he had done that. He flushes bright red, from the tip of his ears all the way down his chest, and Minghao rests his forehead against Joshua's ribcage.

"Fuck," he groans, one hand grabbing at Joshua's now bare thigh, "You didn't have on any underwear? Did you know this was going to happen?"

"No," he says, honest, shy, "But maybe I had hoped."

Minghao presses a kiss to his sternum, sighs cool against his skin. "You are unreal."

Joshua smiles to himself, proud. The praise, however subtle it may be, has his stomach and heart flipping, fluttering, his head floaty, somewhere high in space. "Thank you," he murmurs, polite.

Minghao's hand on his cock is sudden, and it makes him gasp, buck up into his fist, dropping his head.

He tries to fuck up into his hand, but a hand on his hip stops him, pushes him down onto his back once more. He looks up at Minghao, wide-eyed, lips swollen and bruised, and he's met with the sight of an equally roughed up boy.

Minghao's hair is pulled and twisted, two pretty purple blossoming bruises on his neck, his lips kiss bitten swollen and slick, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths. Joshua wants him so badly he aches with it. 

"Minghao," he kisses his name into the corner of his mouth, Minghao hums, "Will you please fuck me?" He rocks his hips up with purpose, his barely touched cock leaking against Minghao's thigh.

"So kind," he speaks low against Joshua's lips. He pulls back and rests on his elbows, thumbing at Joshua's bottom lip until he sucks it in his mouth. "Where's your lube?"

He nods to the bedside drawer, and Minghao scrambles, reaching for the lube and a condom. He settles back on the bed on his heels as Joshua props himself up on a pillow.

Minghao makes quick work of slicking his fingers up, tracing shapes into his thighs, teasing. He watches Joshua's hole flutter in anticipation, and Joshua whimpers a quiet _please_ , to which Minghao responds almost immediately. 

The first finger circles his entrance for only a moment before he slides in, taking it one knuckle at a time. It doesn't take Joshua long to adjust to the first, but he's in disbelief, a little hazy, and he goes slack as Minghao moves, presses his finger against Joshua's walls.

"Another, Hao, please," he begs, propping himself up on his elbows to watch.

The second finger goes in with very little difficulty, and Joshua moans, long and high at the feeling, Minghao scissoring his fingers inside of him. His head is spinning, and he almost doesn't catch himself rocking against Minghao's fingers. It's not enough, though, he wants _Minghao_ inside of him, wants to feel him, and he knows he won't last long on his long fingers. " _More_."

So, Minghao adds the third finger, stretches him open, watches him closely, amazed by the way Joshua molds around him, fucks down onto him. Minghao's cock jumps at the feeling, at the sight of Joshua spread open, leaking against his stomach.

"M'good," he starts, so quiet at first he doesn't think Minghao hears him. "Hao, Minghao, I'm good, I'm ready."

Minghao hushes him, pulls his fingers out slowly, whispers, "Shh, I've got you, baby," and Joshua watches his soul leave his body at the pet name.

Minghao slips the condom on wordlessly, slicks himself up with lube, and lines up with Joshua's hole. He steadies himself on one arm, and Joshua maintains careful eye contact, wanting to watch Minghao's face. He pushes in painfully slow, Joshua's jaw goes slack, and he keens, Minghao's cock obviously thicker than his fingers.

When Minghao bottoms out, he moans, and Joshua's hands find purchase in his hair, pulls him down, and kisses him stupid, all spit and desperation as he adjusts to Minghao inside of him. The kiss is mostly tongue, and Joshua is putty, melting into the mattress. 

After a moment, he encourages Minghao to move, and when he does, Joshua sees stars.

Honestly, he thinks he could black out, the room silent except for the lewd, wet sounds of Minghao's cock and his thighs hitting the back of Joshua's and their quiet moans. 

Except then Joshua wraps both legs around Minghaos' waist, digs his ankles into the dimples in his lower back, pushes him down, closer, somehow deeper, and the new angle has tears springing to Joshua's eyes fast.

A mantra of _Minghao, Minghao, more, more, Hao, fuck_ , half in Korean, half in English, half probably not even real words, and Minghao has hardly touched his cock, but Joshua already feels like he's going to finish.

He reaches between their sweaty chests, starts working his cock in time with Minghao's thrusts.

"M'close," he speaks around gasps, and Minghao nods, pace quickening. It's only two more tugs of his cock before Joshua spills white in his hand, paints both of their chests, and he hears more than he feels Minghao's orgasm wreck through him.

They lay there for a minute, chests heaving, before Joshua smiles and laughs a soft laugh, his sticky hand coming to Minghao's cheek and pulling him down for a kiss. 

This time it's not rushed, and Minghao takes his time easing into Joshua's mouth, closing his lips around Joshua's bottom lip as he pulls his cock out. He whines at the sudden emptiness he feels, and Minghao laughs then, kisses him three more times, gentle, and sits up. "Stay here."

Joshua nods and waits while Minghao goes to the bathroom and grabs a wet rag, condom discarded in Joshua's bathroom. He crawls back onto the bed and wipes down Joshua's hands, his belly, and between his thighs, soft with his touch. He tosses the rag to the side and leans down to press a kiss just under each nipple, then up to his lips.

"I can't believe you pierced your nipples."

"I can't believe you like it so much."

"Shut up."

They smile at each other, and Minghao lays down next to him, draping his leg over Joshua's waist, and Joshua finds his hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses each fingertip. They fall asleep like that, tangled limbs and soft kisses.

The next morning, Joshua gets an earful from Jeonghan, but Joshua just rubs it in that he did seduce Minghao, thank you. 

"Gross," Jeonghan whines, and Joshua just pushes some acetaminophen across the table at the cafe, a smile on his face. 

"Grumpy." Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but Joshua knows how hungover the other boy gets. 

When Saturday comes, Minghao is a nervous mess. They're standing outside of the museum, and it's just past six in the evening, and they've both had a glass of wine.

Joshua kisses him silly in the street, slaps his ass, and tells him, "Don't be nervous. Your art is great, your boss knows that that's why you're here. Some rich husband and wife are going to hang your badass art up in their rich people house, and then I'll fuck you for all your hard work." He murmurs the last words into his ear, pressing a kiss to his lobe before stepping back and grabbing his hand. "Come on!"

Joshua leads the way into the museum, and Minghao follows, dumbstruck, a little wine drunk, and a lot high on Joshua. He just shakes his head, squeezes Joshua's hand, and watches as he makes friends with all of the rich old ladies shopping the pieces for sale.

Joshua's always been better at people than Minghao, that's just a fact of life. It doesn't bother Minghao, though, to watch him bat his eyes at the grandma's, to put his hand on a middle-aged woman's arm, to flirt with a woman and her husband. If anything, it makes Minghao's heart fucking soar. 

By the end of the night, Joshua has enchanted a woman and her husband so much that they do in fact buy Minghao's paintings to hang in their rich home. And Joshua does fuck him that night, sweet and slow and careful, their mouths sweet like strawberries and wine.

Nothing changed after that — Their apartment in downtown Seoul has always been a home. Except now Joshua has his nipples pierced and it's not a big deal, minus the fact that Minghao thinks it's very sexy, and they share a bed more than they don't, share berry-flavored midnight kisses and Joshua carved out a Minghao shaped spot in his heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it please leave a comment! this is the longest complete fic i have written in, well... ever, so i hope i did it justice :)
> 
> you can find me on twitter here if you'd like !!! thank you for reading :,)


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